


A Better Love Deserving Of

by ohfrecklefreckle



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, brendon gonna brendon, tw: Food, who knew grapes could be so sexy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 18:11:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18696673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohfrecklefreckle/pseuds/ohfrecklefreckle
Summary: ~He didn't know whether to take Brendon seriously or not. Years had passed and yet that conundrum remained unsolved.~Slightly cracky and super fluffy but I'm not sorry in the slightest about either of those :) Short and sweet just like Mr Stump <3  Old school disclaimer: M/M RPF - you have been warned! Some bad language, not explicit. If you don't like RPF then please don't read it. Barely registers on the angst scale. Enjoy!





	A Better Love Deserving Of

 

It was a disaster. Not an unmitigated one but, if Patrick was honest with himself, not an unexpected one either. It had become somewhat of a tradition that if it was Brendon's idea then it would usually turn out terribly. It had all sounded so easy. Stream a video, make an announcement about the tour and then turn the camera off. Simple. Or not so simple as it turned out. Various attempts to get the camera online had failed and when they had finally got it working the sound was dreadful which was the one thing that annoyed Patrick the most. Out of the two he always preferred being heard as opposed to being seen.

The aim of the stream was mainly to announce the tour and they had at least achieved that so he could write it off to experience and just refuse to do live streaming ever again. If anything made getting back on stage without the support of his bandmates more appealing it was the fact that his promo work for the tour was done. Brendon was a great salesman when it came to himself and music to the point of being a confidence trickster. Patrick was more than happy to take a back seat when it came to hawking himself or concert tickets which let him save his energy for the shows instead.

After the camera had been clicked off he sat on the floor beside Brendon and put his head in his hands.

“Man, that was _awful_.”

“C'mon Patrick, we did great. We got the tour news out there. It's all good.”

“I felt so... uncomfortable, y'know.”

“You looked it. No, come on, dude you were great. Really great. You're so naturally warm and charming. Who wouldn't want to come see you on tour?”

He didn't know whether to take Brendon seriously or not. Years had passed and yet that conundrum remained unsolved. Everything came with a huge grin or a giggle at the end whether it was sad, silly or serious. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to spend a day being so carefree and crazy. That was an alien concept to Patrick who saw himself as more considered than cautious but also sincere and not staid.

“You think people will come?”

Another broad Brendon smile flashed back at him.

“Damn right they will. And I meant what I said, that you look smoking hot too. That sells tickets before you sing a single note.”

Patrick had narrowly avoided blushing during the video and deliberately no-sold the comment Brendon made a couple of minutes in. It was only sheer force of will that had kept his face at a normal shade of hot-day flushed pink. He had never done well at taking compliments and hearing anything that remotely suggested he was sexy didn't sit right with how he felt about himself even after all the the hard work he had put in to change his look.

“Oh, quit it. You're all dressed up and I look terrible in this shirt.”

“Shut. _Up,_ Patrick. You look almost as good as me with this new thing you've got going on. I mean, not as good but almost, right?”

This time it wasn't possible to stop his cheeks from glowing. Everything Brendon said was dripping in innuendo and suggestiveness. Having previously seen him get everybody from cops to surly drive-thru servers eating out of his hand in minutes with no effort at all had been a lesson in just how persuasive a personality like that could be. It was one of the factors that made him take even the most sincere sounding comments with a pinch of salt

“Definitely not as good. You should rock preppy more often. People would dig it.”

“Maybe but in these new glasses I look like your 4th grade teacher pretending not to be gay so he didn't get his ass fired.”

The usual trademark giggle that followed eased Patrick's nerves a little until a hand briefly settled on his shoulder which set them off again. He wasn't used to having anybody so close to him that wasn't one of his long term bandmates. The fact that he could feel both the hand warming his shoulder and the heat from Brendon's body close to him wasn't helping his face cool down. In a state of mild panic he half shrugged the hand from his shoulder and rubbed idly at the back of his neck.

“So, shall we eat? I mean the video is done and it doesn't matter if I get anything down me now?”

As per usual Patrick could find a way to bring the topic of conversation back to his stomach which, incidentally, had grumbled so loudly when they were recording that he wouldn't have been surprised if that's the only thing the people at home could hear. Hunger seemed an ideal way to change the subject and to keep Brendon's mouth otherwise occupied as well.

“Sure but... you don't have a table up yet so...”

For a second Patrick felt embarrassed by the state of his apartment. He had been there too long to still be living out of boxes and cases but there wasn't time for unpacking when he was away from home or in the studio as often as he was. Boxes brimming with vinyl records, unused pots, discarded demos and Pete's songbooks sat around them. One day he would be organised and live in a minimalist paradise which, he was convinced, would help his creative process. That was his mantra every time he got home from the studio but decided to relax in front of a movie instead. One day perhaps he would make it happen but that day seemed a long way away as he glanced around the room. After all he was the guy who moved in to an apartment at 11am and had a full drum kit assembled by the time he needed to go out to Subway for lunch an hour later.

“I'll get some plates and let's just slum it on the floor. We've been okay down here so far.”

Glad of the escape Patrick leapt up and headed to the kitchen where they had dumped the bags from the market. He hooked both of them over one hand, shoved the wine under his arm and slotted the glasses in between his fingers. Carefully he balanced cutlery, corkscrew and napkins on the plates before making a slow and steady journey back into the lounge.

“Ah, Patrick, lunch is _served_.”

He heard Brendon's words and for a split second he wasn't sure if he should look up from the items balanced in his hands, wondering if he would see a naked body sprawled on his couch. That wouldn't be the weirdest thing that had happened since he'd known the younger man. There was no such serving platter waiting for him though and he soon knew it was only the excitement talking as hands reached up to him to grab the wine and glasses.

As Brendon uncorked the wine Patrick laid out the plates and food as artistically as he could on the floor. Artisan breads, various cheeses, grapes, salumi, crackers and chips with salsa (the last being his admittedly less than sophisticated choice) were in tubs and waxed paper wraps and even on the cheap hardwood flooring it looked an almost regal spread for lunch. Shopping with Brendon had been an experience and the selections he made left Patrick glad that he wasn't paying. The wine alone had been thirty dollars a bottle and they had another bottle in the kitchen. It was a far cry from a cold Taco Bell in the back of a van with Pete.

“Patrick, I propose a toast.”

“Uh, sure, what are we cheersing?”

“Me and you. Our tour. Your new life. This frankly sick new look. All of it. And the cheese. I'm so goddamn hungry!”

With a clink of their glasses the eating and drinking commenced. Patrick sampled his way around the spread but made sure not to load his plate with too much, keen as he was to give the impression of refinement that his ability to demolish a whole deep dish pizza in record time did not support. (Brendon had been spared this party trick so far and Patrick wanted to keep it that way). It had been hard work getting to where he was both getting the weight off and, so far, keeping it off, but he figured that he deserved to let loose every now and again.

“Patrick, you gotta try this. It's so good. _Insanely_ good.”

The amiable silence was interrupted by Brendon's assertion and before Patrick could say no a slice of the expensive asiago was being layered onto a poppyseed cracker with two grape halves balanced on top of it. As it winged its way to his mouth he accepted that there were definite advantages of living close to a decent Italian deli and he managed to grab the cracker from Brendon's hand and pop it into his mouth before an awkward 'here comes the airplane' moment occurred. The salty and strangely strong cheese crumbled onto his palate, the grapes sent a rich sugar sweet assault to follow it and instantly he could see why the taste sensation had impressed Brendon so much.

“ _Uhhh_ , man, that is good.”

Patrick hadn't realised that his eyes were closed or that he sounded quite as sinful as Brendon's expression suggested he did when he finally opened them again. Doing his best to gather his thoughts and dignity Patrick cleared his throat and tried to play it down.

“Sorry about that. Great cheese.”

It wasn't as if he couldn't recognise mischief in Brendon's eyes after all the years they'd known one another but there was something borderline Machiavellian about the way the pink lips curled at the corner.

“Can I maybe get you some more?”

“I don't know if that's...”

“Okay, how about some extra fruit then. Let me peel you a grape.”

If he did protest then it fell on deaf ears. Patrick watched as Brendon picked up one of the ruby red grapes and scored it all the way around with what was passing as a cheese knife. He then used the side of the blade to peel the skin away and after taking a second to admire his deft handiwork, Patrick saw the slender hand coming towards his face. In a matter of seconds the mood in the room had changed. Nobody had ever peeled him a grape before and he certainly hadn't allowed anyone to attempt to feed him. (Not even Pete but that was a thought he quickly shut down and packed away.)

The grape was secured between Brendon's thumb and index finger and Patrick couldn't help but notice the way the pink stained juice coated his fingertips. The way Brendon looked at him, silently daring him to look away, was almost too much. A twitch in his groin was a red flag, his brain screaming that he should just take the grape using his own hand like he had with the cracker but it was too late. If a spell had been cast then he was completely under it.

With a sweep of his tongue he slicked his parted lips, noting the bitter hint of red wine that had settled on them, and braced himself for impact. Confidence was everything and Brendon seemed to have it by the ton. His hand held the grape steady but stopped just short and he let Patrick bridge the last few centimetres to take it from his hand.

The grape was slippery to the point of almost sensual and as it popped into Patrick's mouth he bit down on it, the tart sweetness spreading across his taste buds as it gave up it's juice and fleshy centre. In no more than a few seconds it was swallowed and gone but Brendon's fingers remained in front of his mouth. Instinctively he leaned forward but hesitated for a second, waiting for the joke to be on him, but when no laughter came and he saw the darkening expression on Brendon's face he used his lips to take the index finger into his mouth.

Slowly Patrick ran his tongue around the pad of Brendon's fingertip as if he was trying to count the thousands of lines that made the loop in the centre of it. It tasted like a sweetened combination of all the things they'd been eating and he badly wanted to take all of it into his mouth. It had been so long, too long, since anybody had made a move on him so brazenly and it was awakening things in him that he had long since put to bed. The soft appreciative noises coming from Brendon were connecting straight to his cock and the suit pants he'd chosen to wear, not knowing that he would only be on screen from the waist up, were straining and trapping him which only added to the thrill.

“You're fucking wasted on that finger Patrick.”

The gentle, breathy way that Brendon spoke was so far from the brash showman he usually was that Patrick couldn't help but gulp down his next breath. He was forced to take notice when the finger withdrew suddenly and Brendon's hands were gripping the lapels of his jacket.

“You wanna do this?”

“Yeah, I think I do...”

Patrick closed his eyes and waited but he didn't have to wait long. The softness of the lips that met his sent a shiver down his spine that made him arch towards Brendon who already towered over him sat down. His chin tilted up and a groan escaped the back of this throat as their tongues started to explore and duel amicably. It wasn't what he expected at all but then he expected everybody to kiss like Pete. Pete was rough and ready, no stopping til business was handled. Pete was his only real point of reference as to how it was with another guy and yet somehow it was already being proved so wrong.

If Pete was brutal then Brendon was tender, really tender. Patrick felt cherished – devoured even. A floor picnic followed by a makeout session was the most alien thing to him and yet Brendon had made it happen with little or no effort. Looking back he should have known what was coming by how well dressed Brendon was when they'd met at the market earlier, how there was a specific menu in mind and a special bottle of wine picked to share. Patrick realised that for the first time in his life he'd been on a proper date even if it was in the confines of his own apartment.

He made a mental note to assemble the bed as soon as Brendon had gone but for now they'd have to make do with the couch or the mattress on the floor in the bedroom. That's if it went that far but given the hands sliding inside his jacket and the way he was shuffling against the zipper of his pants trying to get some sort of pressure it was definitely heading that way. He relaxed into the kiss, allowing one of his hands to shakily ascend to Brendon's face, cupping the soft skin and thumbing it. For once he was so present and part of something that didn't feel like an out of control semi truck heading towards a precipice with a brick forcing down the accelerator. Like the fancy wine and cheese it was something that he could see himself getting used to.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired entirely by [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T51Sw3uflCw). See 2:40 for Brendon's comment ;) How could anybody watch this and not think about a make out session happening straight after the camera went off, right? They have such a cutesy couple chemistry here that I couldn't not write a little something. 
> 
> Title taken from the P!ATD song "Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off".


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